Quitting vs. Letting Go

It's been a while since I've posted anything new here.  There are a couple of reasons for that.  One is that I've had precious little feedback from this blog, so I have a tendency to think "why bother?" Then, recently, I've gotten some support and encouragement from people who actually are reading my words.  Thank you!  You know who you are.  I acknowledge that I write primarily for myself, so it shouldn't really matter if anyone reads it or not, but it does mean a lot.

The other reason is that the nature of my thoughts tends to remain on topics that have been addressed here again and again.  Well dear readers, I'm sorry to say that this will be no different, though perhaps there is a slight evolution to the nature of my thoughts and ideas, so here goes.

The pain, suffering, resentment, and betrayal that have so excessively haunted me these past 2 1/2 years have hardly abated since " the incident".  I often find myself thinking that if I could just let go, or give up, that I might make myself less bloody miserable.

Yet when such thoughts arise, I find myself reluctant to do so.  I clench up, physically and emotionally, and oftentimes tears start flowing.  What am I afraid of?  Why would any sane person cling to such painful and debilitating feelings and ideas?  Then again, can I really control these things?  This essay will attempt to address some revelations on these concepts.

I think that one primary reason I fear letting go, is that I am equating "letting go" with "giving up" or "quitting" and that's an assault to my ego and my stubbornness.  I don't want to admit to myself that I may have been horribly wrong, that the woman I fell so hopelessly in love with is perhaps not that person at all, that she does not deserve my love, and/or that maybe she is not such a wonderful human being.  I don't want to believe that, so I create tension, attachment, and denial, and my ego steps in to assert control. But perhaps I'm looking at things with the wrong perspective.  I'm realizing that giving up and letting go are, in fact, two very different processes.

Giving up could be construed as admitting defeat, allowing those negative thoughts to take control and to assert dominance.  It's conceding that all that past was a sham of deceit and treachery.  Letting go, on the other hand, is nothing of the sort.  It's an expression of claiming one's power, and that whatever the reality might be is not so clear or even important.  It just is, there's no clinging to "right" or to "wrong".  These ideas do not really exist.

Quitting is allowing negative emotions such as anger, hatred, and frustration to get the best of me, to dominate mind and soul.  Letting go is acknowledging that these emotions might arise, perhaps with frequency, but denying their power over who and what I am.  It's observing them and saying "hmmm...  That's interesting" and then moving on.

Quitting is to lose hope and give up on the notion that things could get better, that I might one day understand things, or that a resolution, of any sort, is possible.  Letting go is not so conclusive, it acknowledges that things will change, and does not concern itself with what that change might mean.

Giving up is stagnancy, immobility, single mindedness, and blindness.  There's no effort to adapt, to change in approach, or even to have an approach to one's problems.  Letting go is accepting the impermanent nature of all things and concerning oneself with the present.  As far as the future goes, things will be different and alternate approaches may or may not be appropriate.

Quitting is not caring what might happen to others, maybe even wishing ill upon them.  Letting go is hoping for the best, but realizing it's all beyond your control.

Giving up, in the case of my still unseen son, has a sense of abandonment inherent in it, a position that repulses, terrifies, and infuriates me.  Letting go however, is trusting that things may turn out OK in spite of the crappy situation that is.  That I'm here, when or if he needs me.

Giving up is black and white, right and wrong, good and bad.  It's all about winning or losing.  Letting go does not make such distinctions.  It's the middle path without labels or blame, acknowledging that things rarely conform to such cut and dry extremes.  It's about deciding to play a different game altogether.

Quitting is denying the existence of love and giving up on ever finding it.  Letting go acknowledges love, yet has no expectations from it.

The past I must take is clear, but knowing such things and living such ideas is the true challenge.  I fear that letting go requires forgiveness, and I'm not so certain that I'm there yet.  But at least I have a rudimentary map of the landscape to follow.  That's a pretty useful tool to have.